Hawke wasn't one for entrances. The whole fashionably late thing or gaudy entrance never struck a chord with her. It was much better to let smooth talking give the impression you wanted: words louder than action. Even in her mildly panicked state, she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

'Heh, words do technically speak louder. Can actions even speak? Truly, questions that need answers...And don't show you how you feel right now.'

Of course, when she stepped into the Hanged Man it was less akin to entering and more like breaking in to steal something. Even better, despite the tavern being overrun by thirsty patrons, her coming managed to draw the attention of what felt like the entire building.

'Shit...of all the things...'

"Umm, Varric?" She asked, trying to cope with dozens of staring eyes.

At least twenty hands rose to point toward the stairs in the back.

"Thanks..."

Inwardly, Hawke cursed herself she deftly slid past dashing servers and drunken sods.

'So much for being suave.'

Hopefully, she didn't lose too much face from that. Of course, she knew better.

'Right. Because people aren't going to remember the long lost Amell heir being flustered...'

The idea of being mocked made her cheeks redden. In response, Hawke threw out the thought. Her reputation in some shitty bar didn't matter. At least not right this minute. She placed her hand on the door to Varric's suite.

'Okay. Nice and calm'

She swung the door open.

"Hawke?" The dwarf looked at her with surprise. "You should knock, you know. What if I was doing something dark or sinister?"

"Right, Varric. I could have caught you practicing blood magic. Between wondering how a dwarf is conjuring magic and why you didn't share your secrets with me, I don't know what I would do!" Hawke clasped her heart. "I would be heart broken."

Her friend gave a small chuckle. "You should quit the whole helping ambassador thing and go into acting. Make a killing."

"Killing? I do plenty of that already. Besides I would be thrown out for casting a spell over my audience."

"Two puns in one go?" Varric whistled. "Something must be on your mind."

Her jaw went agape at the dwarf's statement.

'How the hell does he do it?'

He answered her silent question. "We've been friends for three years. You know it's my job to read, both books and people."

She closed her mouth, but hesitated to speak.

"Hawke." The dwarf drew out her name, like a father wanting an explanation.

"Mother is missing." She blurted, finally overcoming her hesitation.

"That's...not what I expected." He looked down, talking more to himself than her. "What else?"

"I found white lilies." The words came out like a jumbled mess.

"Lilies?" Varric asked rhetorically.

She waited for it to click.

"Lilies... oh, holy shit."

Click.

"Varric, I need to know if any of your contacts spotted my mother today. Gamlen said she was here in Lowtown."

"Yeah." His voice was distant, distracted. "Just give me a sec to look at the logs."

A second passed. Hawke began to pace.

'Of all the things. Mother just had to go out today. If she had just stayed home...if...'

"Hawke, could you stop that?"

"Hmm?" She questioned.

"The pacing," He answered. "It's tough enough seeing you like this. I don't want you acting it, too."

"Uh, sure." She gave a nervous shrug. "Sorry."

It was another half minute before Varric spoke again. "Here. It says your mother was helping some crippled man. If you hadn't mentioned the flowers, I would say it isn't unusual."

Hawke wanted to tear her hair out.

"Maker, Mother. Why can't you just mind your own business?"

"Hawke." The dwarf chastised, a reminder not to "act worried".

"Sorry." She repeated for yet another time. "Do you mind coming with me?"

"You don't need to ask. I was going regardless."

She took sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Varric."

"Don't thank me yet." He paused with consideration. "You can get me something to drink after this though."

She snorted.

"I'll consider that a promise, Hawke."

Hawke gave him a mock glare, before taking the first step down the stairs.

"By the way, Varric, I..." She trailed off for a moment. "...I think you should bring Bianca."

"Way ahead of you."

She looked over her shoulder to see the dwarf hefting his prized crossbow.

"I mean, you didn't think I didn't notice your staff..." He stopped to mockingly correct himself. "Oh, my bad, walking stick."

Despite the jibe, Hawke couldn't bring herself to enjoy it.

"Yeah..."

Her sullen response caused the dwarf to frown, but say nothing else. Instead, he merely followed as she led the way to leave. The warm summer night greeted them as they exited the Hanged Man. The sky twinkled with starlight as a half-moon rested on its throne. The scene did nothing but make Hawke tense up.

'How long was I in the tavern? Shit, the sun is gone. How long has Mother been taken? And where the Maker's name is Gamlen?'

She felt a tap on her back. Surprised, she spun around, only to see Varric. The sight of her being on edge must have pained Varric, judging by the deep creases on his face.

"It's going to be alright, Hawke."

If only he knew how many times had she had said that to herself.

Pounding on the door. That was what finally removed Hawke from her bed. It was rather disappointing, honestly. A few more hours and she would have certainly become firmly rooted, much like a spud. Alas, the world's first mage-potato hybrid was not meant to be.

'Knowing my luck, Bohdan has locked himself out again.'

Bang. Bang. Bang.

'A bit forceful to be him, though...'

Bang. Bang. Bang!

"Someone at the door? I would have never guessed. I couldn't hear because of the all the damn banging!" Hawke opened the door. "What is-Aveline?"

There she stood, Captain Aveline of the Kirkwall Guard. The fiery redhead, clad in full mail as always, looked rather aghast at the sight of Hawke.

"Hawke, err, umm...you're looking...well."

"You? Trying to be diplomatic? Truly, I have seen it all."

"Nice." She corrected with a grunt. "I was trying to be nice."

"Bah." Hawke waved her hand in dismissal.

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Anyway, may I come in?"

"Be my..." Hawke said, stepping aside from the entrance.. "...guest."

Taking that a gesture to come in, Aveline took a step in. Yet, despite having been in Hawke's estate many a time, the Guard-Captain's steps echoed uncertainly on the foyer's marble floor as she followed her host.

"Aveline." Hawke started, taking a seat. "I know I am a mess."

"You look like shit actually." The redhead corrected as she claimed a seat of her own.

Indeed, in a competition between which looked worse, Hawke would've given shit a run for its money. Her ebony hair, once trim and cropped, was an unwashed, bedraggled mess. Eyes, once a radiant blue, were now a puffy red. Below them rested two sleep deprived bags. Fortunately, a fist sized black eye kindly covered the left-side bag. Perhaps the worst was her lips. The smile she gave Aveline. No, it was no smile. It was a ghost of joy long dead.

Aveline locked her gaze on Hawke. "I am worried for you. We all are..."

Hawke looked down, guilt pinging within.

'Of course they are worried. Look at what I did to Varric. To Carver."

"You? Worried?" Hawke spoke meekly, head still to the floor. "That's a first."

A sad attempt at sarcasm. And one that had no effect on the Guard-Captain.

"I have to be." Aveline reached with her hand and propped Hawke's head up. "It's my job, you know."

Hawke did not respond. How could she?

"You know I am here for you."

With that, she gently let Hawke's head fall down again and got up.

"If...when you need to talk, I'll be in my office. You know where to find me."

With that, Aveline took her leave. Step by step the clanking of her armor faded away, until, with a creak of a door, silence settled. It was only under this veil of quiet that Hawke could speak.

"Thank you, Aveline."